


oral fixation

by phinnia



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-14
Updated: 2007-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-15 09:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phinnia/pseuds/phinnia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson muses about his friend's oral fixation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oral fixation

House is always putting things in his mouth.

When Wilson first met him it was cigarettes: younger House was an inveterate chain smoker, lighting one from the last hot gasp of its ill-fated sibling. Cigarettes eventually lost their allure for most in their profession, but House of course needed a nudge with a sledgehammer, which came in the guise of Wilson himself. He remembers his first assignment in oncology, the wet-behind-the-ears resident James Wilson thrown face to face with patients with throat cancer lighting up contraband menthols and smoking them through their trach tubes with an air of gleeful resignation. That night he'd come home and thrown away every last one of Greg's cigarettes and suffered through the inevitable month of withdrawal hell by keeping the image of House as an end-stage lung cancer patient firmly fixed in his mind. In the end Wilson tolerated the occasional cigar (it wasn't like he didn't indulge in those himself, after all) and House had had to find other outlets for his oral fixation.

He spends not a small amount of time with his foot in his mouth, but that's generally metaphorical (although Wilson mentioning that phrase generally led to the possibly-bullshit-maybe-not story of the double-jointed cheerleader House had dated in pre-med, and the things she could do with her feet and her mouth, and that story just made Wilson feel horny and jealous about lost time, so he tried not to say the words out loud too often) but these days his usual vice was candy, usually cherry lollipops stolen from the nurses' station in peds. Which, despite the eyerolls Wilson throws in his direction whenever he watches a candy caper in progress, are better for him than vicodin, at least.

The first time he steals a kiss from those lips, they taste like pills, vodka and cherry lollipops with a healthy dollop of lust. He's thought about writing to Absolut to see if they'd make him a Greg-House-flavoured vodka, but he can't figure out how to chemically mimic that last ingredient, and he's not sure he wants to, either.

Besides, these days mild-mannered James Wilson finds that he's the possessive type. If he saw Stacy with a bottle of his private stock he'd probably have to punch her lights out.


End file.
